One Bullet
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: Carl has to do the one thing a child should never have to.


**EM**: So it's not that good (honestly it's not), but I just had this little thing about Carl when he has to shoot Lori. I know, depressing. But he's really starting to grow on me, this kid. Because he's really coming into his own. And so, I give you this.

**Disclaimer**: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC. I borrowed words.

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One Bullet

She was gone. Gone forever. Never to see her baby again. He would never see his mom again, never talk to her again, never be able to run to her again when everything got to be too much.

No, now he had to end her life with a bullet.

And that was all it was going to take. One bullet to end his mom's life.

To end her _dead_ life. Because she was already dead.

Maggie had to cut her open, had to use _his_ knife to slice her belly open, right across her hips. He'd never seen so much of his mom before but he didn't want to think about it.

And he had thought at the time that all that mattered was that she lived and the baby lived.

The baby. His little brother or sister. Whatever it was going to be. He was going to be a _big _brother. He couldn't believe it. The world had gone _crazy_ and his mom had still gotten pregnant and now here he was, about to have a brother or sister.

But somehow, as he should have _known_, only one of them survived. Only _one_. Not both.

"_No more kids stuff."_

He wasn't a kid anymore, and _this _wasn't a game. This wasn't the world that he knew anymore. He knew that. Knew that as he stared into her face, unblinking, unchanging, un_alive_.

"_People are gonna die. I'm gonna die. Your mom."_

But it shouldn't have been _her_. She should have _lived_. She deserved so much better than this. He and dad should have protected her better than this.

"_There's no way you could ever be ready for it." _

No, he couldn't. And he wasn't.

And now he was staring down the barrel of the gun, into the face of his mother as the faded cries of his sister echoed in his memory.

"_You gotta do what's right. You promise me you'll always do what's right." _

But he didn't _want _too! Doin' what was right meant…meant puttin' a bullet in her head, when she was already dead. Why did he have to be the one to destroy his mom? Why did he have to be the one to ruin her forever?

"_You are smart and you are strong and you are so brave."_

He felt the tears slide down his face, as his hand started to shake. It meant…

He sniffed.

It meant being a man. It meant doing what his dad had been doing all along. Doing things that others couldn't, but that needed to be done. Even if it hurt like _hell_.

It meant putting that bullet through his mom's head to make sure that she never came back. To make sure that she never came back as _one of them_.

Because mom was so much better than that. He wouldn't want her memory to be ruined by the image of her face, ghostly, her eyes pallid, and trying to eat her friends and family. She died to save her baby girl. To save his sister.

She died a _hero_.

"_Now, you take care of your daddy for me, all right? And your little brother or sister. You're gonna be fine."_

And he would be. He would _survive _for his mom. He would survive for his dad. And he would survive for his sister.

He would _be fine_.

He cocked the gun, placing the barrel against her forehead.

It didn't mean that it still didn't _hurt_. He'd never wanted this, wasn't ready for it. And dad wasn't either. She had been the glue that had kept them together, the one that had always made peace between everyone, the one that made sure dad was eating, that the group was always together and happy. Even if they had been fighting, mom had tried her hardest to still be with dad. How were they going to survive without her?

He could hear his sister's soft cries, echoing around him.

They would have too. He would take of care of them. He would take care of his sister and his dad. Because she'd just been born into this life, at the cost of their mother's and he wasn't going to waste it.

"_You're so good, my sweet boy. You're the best thing I ever did. I love you."_

"I love you too mom," he whispered, choking back on the rest of his tears. Because he couldn't cry anymore. This world would _literally_ eat him alive if let himself get any weaker. And now, someone needed him.

He took a deep breath, let it go, let go of his insecurities, his doubts, his fears and let go of _his mom_. He pulled the trigger.

_Bang_

Just _one_ bullet.

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